


Black Out

by sudowoodo



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bisexual Shiro (Voltron), Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Fluffy Ending, Gay Keith (Voltron), Hearing Voices, Hurt/Comfort, Kuro is a fuckboy, M/M, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Post-Kerberos Mission, Pre-Kerberos Mission, Semi-Public Sex, Shiro (Voltron) is a Mess, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-10-23 04:29:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10712199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sudowoodo/pseuds/sudowoodo
Summary: Shiro had been noticing the blackouts for awhile. There were related signs which led him to believe he was at least conscious during the missing time. Random girls would come up and slap him across the face, for no reason he could fathom. Once, he “woke up” with a cigarette in hand, leaning against a motorcycle and surrounded by a bunch of blokes he had never seen before in his life. And, worst of all, when his steady girlfriend of five months started coming on to him heavy in his dorm and he blurted out that he was a virgin, she looked at him like he was crazy. “But we’ve done it, like, five times already?” she laughed.Well, who or what he was becoming during those times, he had no clue. But he was determined to find out. So Shiro started a diary, keeping track of time fanatically. And that’s when Kuro came in.





	1. Lost Time

**Author's Note:**

> This story may be trash ... and I may have let my mind run wild and create plot when all I wanted was porn ... but, uh, please review and bookmark if you like it :) It makes my day. 
> 
> I wrote a nanowrimo novel (draft) about a guy with Dissociative Identity Disorder, but I handled it pretty poorly and here I am again, only this time I think I'll handle it slightly better despite the fact that I'm using it as a plot device for lots of SEX and TWINCEST and ugh, I'm the worst. I can only apologise half-heartedly since I'm gonna continue writing this anyway. 
> 
> I ... hope you enjoy it?

Shiro had been noticing the blackouts for awhile. WebMD’s symptom checker had a stellar list of possible causes ranging from minor to almost sinister: ear infection, anaemia, anxiety, ADHD, epilepsy, and aneurism to name but a few. So, that was just dandy.

It sure as hell was _causing_ him anxiety, though. I mean who wouldn’t be a little spooked if all they had to do was blink fast and find themselves somewhere else, transported in space and time with no recollection of how they got there? He didn't drink, before you ask, nor did he go near any of the various drugs sold in subtle corners around the Garrison. He was a bright, strapping young lad. He had a promising future to think of. He had everything to lose. 

There were related signs, of course, which led Shiro to believe he was at least conscious during these blackouts. Random girls would come up and slap him across the face, for no reason he could fathom. Once, he “woke up” with a cigarette in hand, leaning against a motorcycle and surrounded by a bunch of blokes he had never seen before in his life. And, worst of all, when his steady girlfriend of five months started coming on to him heavy in his dorm and he blurted out that he was a virgin. She looked at him like he was crazy. “But, we’ve done it, like, five times already?” she laughed.

He got another slap when he admitted he couldn’t remember. As expected, their relationship didn’t survive that particular ordeal, and since then Shiro had avoided women like the plague. He decided to ask Matt one day if he ever noticed Shiro acting strange — or simply different — and Matt rolled his eyes. “Only when you talk to chicks,” he said, smiling a little wearily and adjusting his glasses. “Yeah, you become a totally different person when you talk to chicks.”

But — that was _normal_ , Matt assured him. He didn’t judge him for it. He chalked it up to teenage hormones and a bit of an alpha complex. Still, Shiro didn’t like the wording of it. 

_A totally different person._

Well, who or what he was becoming during those times, he still had no clue. But he was determined to find out. So Shiro began obsessively checking his phone after blackouts, searching for open tabs, or messages, or pictures, anything to give him a clue as to what was happening to him during the missing time. He started a diary, keeping track of time fanatically. And that’s how he found out about Kuro.

It was an accident that he found out, really. Or maybe it wasn’t. It seemed almost deliberate on Kuro’s part: like he had been sitting, waiting patiently for this moment for who knows how long. He wanted to come in with a _bang!_ After one particular blackout in which he recovered himself alone, sitting on a toilet lid in a bathroom stall, he took the notebook from his back pocket and flipped it open where the ribbon bookmarker had left it. He turned a new page to scribble down his whereabouts, the first thing he remembered and the last. But as his pen rested over the paper, he noticed something else. The usually pure white paper looked duller, less bright, the way it does when the page behind isn’t fresh but written upon. So Shiro turned the page, and there in an unfamiliar scrawl was written:

_Oh fuck, only a couple pages left. Holyyyyy shit! This is, like, such a HUGE moment! I am actually feeling a lil tearful rn, y’know?_

Shiro stared at the writing, swallowing a lump in his throat. He kept the notebook on his person at all times, _always_ ; do you really think he'd risk anyone finding out he was quite possibly deranged? Heck, he even kept it under his pillow when he slept. There was no way anyone else could have gotten a hold on it: he'd bet his life on that. Unfortunately, having that ruled out only led for far worse explanations to replace it. Trembling, he put his thumb on the page and flipped through the notebook, finding pages upon pages of that same loopy handwriting, filling the entire second half of his notebook. He closed his eyes, and breathed out slowly. Then he opened his eyes and returned to the current page.

_Shiro? Is that you buddy? Are ya reading this? Are ya really there?_

_It’s me … Kuro. Lolololol but you don’t even know who I am, do you?_

_But I know you. Oh boy. I know EVERYTHING._

_Your lil diary is SO cute, man, but I mean in all honesty the first half of this journal is a total snoozefest. Wait — just fucking wait, man — til you read the second half. MY half._

_You’re gonna fucking HATE it, baby._

_Oh fuck. I wish I could see your face right now. So, like, if you don’t mind finding the nearest mirror. Lol. Cuz that’d be great._


	2. Dear Diary

Dear diary,  
Today Shiro started a journal (nerd) so I just HAD to start one too (like, IRONICALLY, ok? Calm yo tits)  
But OMG isn’t this just like a shared journal?? Is my life a shoujo manga?? Uwaah I can’t wait to find out more about him <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Dear diary,  
Tfw you wake up with a wet dream and you know it’s been awhile since you were driving.  
No? Just me?  
But, seriously, Shiro never fucking takes care of that shit. What kinda teenager gets himself so pent up he needs his alter to come jack him off?? Lol, what is he, 12??  
TAKE CARE OF YO DAMN NEEDS, SON!  
Not that I’m complaining tho. I bust one out before brekkie and felt like my dick hole was gonna combust. That Shiro guy missed out.  
(I smeared some cum on this page lol oops soz Shiro)

Dear Diary,  
I fucked Shiro’s gf today. Should I feel bad? Maybe. Do I feel bad? Fuck no, that bitch was tight as hell.  
I even cleaned the sheets so Shiro wouldn’t see the blood. I am, like, SUCH a considerate guy.

Dear diary.  
I mean, seriously tho. Shiro gets so fucking anal when he blacks out. Dude I’m over here spending so much time in the black that when I AM in the white I drive under the fucking speed limit and don’t even think of shoplifting at the mall.  
And that’s not racist. I’m Asian.  
YOU’RE racist!

Dearest journal,  
Ugh, Shiro broke up with his gf and I fucking got slapped for it. NOT MY FAULT YOUR A SCHIZO GAWD SHIRO.  
I mean, I know I was the one cheating on her with her best friend, but still. 

Dear diary,  
Yo man makeup sex is the shit I should fuck up Shiro’s relationships more often.

Dear Diary,  
Today was Sunday and I woke up while Shiro was watching porn. LOL IT WAS VANILLA THO WHAT A BABY. He wasn’t even stiff yet, like jeez this dude always misses the best part lol. I pretty much jacked off all day til my dick hurt. Lololol Shiro’s problem, not mine.

Dear dairy,  
I’m still driving. My dick hurts. This was a MISTAKE.  
#worthit

Dear log,  
I wonder when he’ll notice the jar of cum I keep under the bed. 

Dear diary,  
Sometimes I like to imagine it’s Shiro dick I’m jacking. I mean, it is his dick, but it’s my dick, so what’s that? Masturbation? Incest? Twincest?  
Whatever, man, it’s hot

Dear diary,  
SO I WAS JUST CHILLING BANGING THIS GIRL TODAY AND THEN SHE CALLED ME DADDY AND NOT GONNA LIE BEST MOMENT OF MY YOUNG LIFE THIS DESERVES A MAJOR MOTION PICTURE I WISH I COULD TELL SHIRO SUCH PRIDE OMG

Dear diary,  
I’m serious here, diary, Do you ever just, like, have this one senpai? And you’re like? Notice me? And even when you wear slutty undies to school and leave pubes on his pillow and used condoms in his shoes he just? Doesn’t? Know? You? EXIST???!!

Dear diary,  
Lyf is sooooo painful. Everytime I look in the mirror I’m like … I seriously wanna fuck my own mouth? I asked Matt if he could do his final project on cloning so I could fuck myself. I dunno, he thought I was joking or something.  
Nobody FUCKING understands me.

Dear diary,  
Lol I woke up today in the middle of an exam. Astrophysics is the one with the stars, right? Only the questions made no fucking sense and I know Shiro’s a Pisces but I totes feel like I’m more of a Scorpio? So I just doodled some badass scorpions and shit and a few dicks just to make it sexy.  
Fucking aced it

Dear diary,  
Fucked the teacher. Got an A. Shiro’s going about this whole school thing entirely the wrong way man.

Dear diary,  
You know what, I’m SO over this. Shiro’s so fucking dense he hasn’t noticed any of my hints yet. Like, I literally shaved a love note into his leg hair and he didn’t notice.  
I deserve fucking better.

Dear Shiro,  
This is my last diary entry. I’m joining a motorcycle gang. DON’T TRY TO FUCKING STOP ME.

Dear Shiro.  
Alright. Fuck. You win. I NEED you, Shiro. My life is, like, incomplete without you. Literally. Or whatever.  
Baby I just … I get so damn lonely sometimes? You know?? I just wanna … I dunno … be together with you? For once?  
And not even in a sexual way.  
(… Well, I wouldn’t be complaining either.)  
But sometimes I just gotta wonder if you’re even trying. Do you even know?  
I’m gonna do my best from now on. YOU’LL SEE.

Dear diary,  
Bitch ate my nachos. Fuck this I’m out.

Dear Shiro,  
Alright, alright, there’s no use fighting each other. Or, me fighting you and you not knowing I even exist.  
But, hey, I think you’re getting there. I think you’ll find these pages pretty soon too. So when you do I just wanna clear some shit up.  
Basically, it’s just you and me buddy. But we’re not “we”, we’re “me”. Or, “I” — I dunno, I’m not a fucking grammararian. All I’m saying is, we’re just two parts of the same bro. I know you’ll fucking hate that, but it’s time to face the fat lady when she sings or whatever. And it’s taken awhile but I think I’m finally ready to accept it.  
And I’m thinking it’s time I finally got some real time in the spotlight, know what I mean? I wanna be part of your life, big time. I wanna, like, reconnect with ya, brother. According to the internets, the only way to do that is to figure out how to stick around after I’ve blacked out. Apparently that’s the only way to cure it. Then, once we’re both conscious inside our head at the same time, a giant fucking arena appears and we mind-battle to the death. Like fucking Yu-Gi-Oh! man.  
Mwahahahaha. Your body will be MINE, son.  
Seriously that show was epic tho. Anyway, you better prepare your body, man, cuz I'm a-coming for ya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AH, this is dumb, but please review and bookmark and I'll get to the porn in another few chapters :O Let me know what you think! You can follow me on Tumblr: loveyoutopiecesdistractionetc


	3. Mr. Brightside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ: I updated the tags to include rape and non-con, because this chapter became a lot darker than I originally intended and it's a lot less dubious, and it's not graphic but it could be ... distressing. Just to warn you. This will be as dark as it gets, so feel free to skip this chapter entirely if you need to! Thanks for reading :D

Shiro had read enough. Well, in theory he had, but he couldn’t just stop, could he? He had to know. He didn’t _want_ to, but he needed to. Probably. 

It was just … strangely hard to stop.

If Kuro was insane, what did that make Shiro? It was his head, after all. And he didn’t doubt for a second, really, that everything Kuro wrote was true. It all just … made too much sense. It filled all the holes. And, yeah, there was a jar of cum underneath his bed. 

The evidence was overwhelming. And _pungent_.

Shiro thought, somehow, that he even remembered some of the stories Kuro told in his diary. Like he had dreamed them, or had watched them in a movie he couldn’t quite remember.

Occasionally Kuro would mention in passing how this worked: how he would “wake up” in some situation as Shiro dissociated from reality. How he’d “drive” while Shiro was blacked out. And then, that last bit, when he hinted at what Shiro decided to call “passenger mode”: the times when Shiro was driving, but Kuro could still have consciousness somewhere inside his head. Kuro said that it was possible, and that he was trying to breach the gap. But had he succeeded yet? Shiro felt shivers all over his body when he thought about it. 

What if he was here right now? 

However, his own first experience in passenger mode occurred sooner than he expected. Maybe now because he knew what to expect. Or who to expect. Or what triggers might set Kuro off.

It all started when this girl approached him. Shiro didn’t like to use certain types of language — but _this fucking girl._ Afterwards, he realised that that was what tipped him off about it. He thought, _this fucking girl,_ but it wasn’t his thought at all. Shiro acknowledged the moment that Kuro barged to the forefront of his mind and Shiro blinked and made a snap judgement — let it happen. If Kuro was right and this was the only way to cure himself, he had to at least _try_. Even if it meant giving Kuro a little more power. Even if it meant his own humiliation. Shiro faded into the background, but not to the black: he just became a passenger.

“Well, _hi_ ,” came his own voice, out of his own mouth, and his own arm reached out to trap the girl against the wall. But it wasn’t him doing it.

The girl looked up at him, and smiled. She ran her fingers through her hair, and presented him with a piece of paper. “You’re Takashi, right?”

“Shiro,” Kuro corrected, like he was mocking them both.

“Shiro,” she repeated, a small giggle escaping. “I was wondering if you had a bit of time to go through this question with me? I got a D on Hutzler’s last paper — I just really have no idea what I’m doing!” 

“I don’t believe it!” said Kuro with mock-horror. He took the paper, taking a step further into the girl’s space as he looked it over. Inside Shiro’s head, Kuro was laughing. Shiro was the one who studied — Kuro didn’t know multivariable calculus to save his life. Heck, he didn’t even know _regular_ calculus to save his life. He sniggered once more, then tutted. “Smart girl like you? You must’ve failed on purpose just to get a chance to speak to me.”

“Oh my God,” said the girl, laughing. “Did you seriously just say that?”

Kuro sneered a little. “Well, it worked, didn’t it?” He licked his lips, a smirk spreading across his face. “Let’s go back to my dorm. I’m sure I have the solution back there.”

She looked around briefly, then nodded, smiling shyly at him. Kuro grinned, throwing his arm over her shoulder and guiding her in the direction of his dorm. Shiro’s dorm. And Shiro could only watch. 

Shiro watched as they sat down in front of his bed, as Kuro reached his arm behind the girl and talked nonsense about the “real” meaning of x-squared for fifteen minutes. He even referred to x-cubed as “x-uhhh- _threed_ ”. He watched as Kuro lowered his eyes to her lips, and reached up to brush her hair out of her eyes. “Hey, can I kiss you?” he asked softly, and when she didn’t reply he leaned in anyway. 

Shiro watched as Kuro lapped and sucked on her mouth, and how she responded with passive acceptance. He watched as Kuro reached up and grabbed her breast, squeezing it in a way that looked rather uncomfortable, and she broke away from him, retreating slightly. Shiro thought she looked nervous. He didn’t want to push her onto the ground and flatten himself on top of her. He didn’t want to press himself between her legs, grinding against fabric until he was painfully erect. He didn’t want to rip her uniform off, just enough so he could suck her tits and bury himself in her cunt. But Kuro wanted to, and Kuro did. And Kuro did a lot more than that, besides.

Then he disappeared almost immediately after orgasm, and it was Shiro who had to politely ask the girl to leave. After he shut the door behind her he stood in the middle of his dorm, his body rigid and shaking. 

He looked around. The neatly-made bed was his. The books on the shelves were his. The NASA poster on the wall was his.

The condom on the floor was not. The small ache in his cock was not. The memories in his head were not.

Shiro stood there, hand pressed tightly to his mouth, for longer than he could measure. He felt grimy, sullied, sick. He decided, rationally, that the best thing to do was to take a shower. 

He stood underneath the spray, eyes closed, unable to look at or touch his own body. He could wash off the sweat, but the filth was deeper. It was under his skin. It was inside his own head. 

It was then that Kuro reappeared. Shiro wondered briefly if he had ever really left.

_There’s ma buddy,_ he said, chuckling merrily. 

Shiro said nothing, thought nothing. 

_Man, I feel like I could go another round. What ‘bout you?_

Shiro kept his eyes shut, kept his mind blank, ignored him.

_Awh, come on, baby, don’t be like that. I put the show on special for ya. Didn’t you like it?_

Shiro pressed his hand over his ears, not that that he expected that to help. He scrunched his eyes shut tight, and allowed a fuzziness to embrace him. No sights. No sounds. No thoughts.

Eventually, Kuro got bored and slunk away. When Shiro was certain he was gone, or that his consciousness was dim enough to be drowned out, he opened his eyes and looked down on himself. 

The images of his naked body — one hand rubbing down his abs, his fingers rolling a condom over his stiffened length, his cock buried inside that girl to the hilt — it was too much. But the flashbacks had a mind of their own, and with them came glimpses of a hundred more. Different girls, different states of undress, different words Kuro uttered in grunts and groans and gasps. 

Shiro’s body reacted to it. He looked down and breathed out a steady breath. He felt like puking, and closing his eyes couldn’t stop the images. His dick was aching and hard — like he hadn’t just come. Like it was Kuro’s release — not his own. 

He screwed his eyes shut, banging his fist on the wall. 

_Quickly,_ he thought. _Just get it over with quickly. Just try not to think too much about it._

So Shiro grabbed his dick, stepping into pace faster than expected, the event he had just witnessed and his thoughts themselves taking the place of foreplay. His grip around his foreskin was tight and he pumped it hard and fast over the head, collapsing against the shower wall and panting, grunting, grinning, coming. 

In his head, Kuro was laughing. 


	4. Outed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wild Keith appears!

“Who’s Kuro?”

Shiro neck almost snapped as he spun from his locker to look at Matt. “Who? What? Where’d you hear that name?”

Matt pulled a face. “Uh, right there,” he said, pointing to the inside door of Shiro’s locker. Written there, in what looked like lipstick (?), were the words “Kuro + Shiro” surrounded by a large, thick, red heart. 

Shiro froze, but was distracted when he received a not-so-gentle tap on the arm. He turned around to see a cadet standing in front of him, frowning deeply and giving him the once over. Shiro inhaled slightly when the guy’s eyes roved up and met his — they were perfect almond shapes, and slightly upturned. 

It was the first time Shiro truly appreciated the wonder of evolution — because _dayum_ they would make beautiful Asian babies together.

He blinked a few times, and shook his head quickly. He could feel Kuro creeping into his mind, but he shoved him back with all his might.

“Takashi Shirogane?” the guy asked, his voice surprisingly low and flat.

“Y-yeah,” said Shiro, slamming his locker shut so hard that Matt jumped a feet feet backwards. 

The boy in front of him narrowed his beautiful fucking eyes. “You feeling OK there?”

“Oh, yeah, you’re just — holy shit — you’re just so fucking hot.” 

Behind him he heard Matt do a spittake. Shiro almost slapped himself — or, rather, Kuro — in the face. 

“Uh …” The boy froze as if he wanted to bolt. But he didn’t — he just averted his eyes with this somewhat awkward but outrageously endearing expression. “Jeez, I — uh — heard you were a fuckboy but nobody mentioned you were into dudes.”

“I …” Shiro blinked. “Wait, I’m a _what_?”

“That’s what everyone says about you, right?” the cadet said, scratching his neck. He widened his eyes slightly then, and started to turn red. “Well — behind your back, I guess.”

“But — no! I’m not like that,” Shiro urged him. 

The boy shrugged, and shook himself quickly. “Forget it. You grade papers for Professor Hutzler, right?”

Shocked, Shiro could only nod.

“Well, I deserved at least an eighty on the last test. You didn’t give me attempt marks for question three.”

He shoved a paper into Shiro’s chest. “Oh. OK. I can recheck it,” he said vaguely.

“I, uh …” The boy paused, ducking his head slightly and throwing a furtive glance up at Shiro. Jesus Mary mother of fuck his eyelashes were long. “Well, this is awkward now. Don’t just … don’t just give me marks ‘cause you think I’m cute, OK?” he demanded. “I deserve that B minus!”

Shiro believed the word he had used was “hot”, but this kid calling himself cute in that aggressive manner was likely the most adorable thing Shiro had ever been blessed enough to witness.

“Oh — no! No, no, no — I wouldn’t do that,” Shiro assured him, unable to stop the grin spreading across his face. Inside his head Kuro was merrily following the train of thought of this sexy little Freshman guy crawling into his lap and calling him Sensei in exchange for good grades — but — oh, Jesus, what the hell was he thinking? 

The boy raised his shoulders in a tight shrug, then turned to walk away. 

“W-wait! How should I contact you?”

The boy came skidding to a halt, then turned around with his shoulders hunched. “You don’t need to … Jeez, just tell Hutzler to fix my grade and I’ll hear it from Hutzler.”

Shiro blinked. “Right. OK. Will do.”

The guy stood still, looking Shiro up and down for a long minute. Then he threw a glance around, and marched back up to him. Grabbing the papers back, he took out a pencil and scrawled something along the top of it. “That’s my number,” he said gruffly, eyeing Shiro warily with his huge little eyes. “But just so we’re clear — my grades are fine. I don’t need to sleep with you to make ‘em better.” He pressed his lips together into a hard line, meeting Shiro’s gaze for a long moment. “Just so we’re clear,” he repeated in a low voice.

Shiro just nodded. 

_Ooooh baby!_

Kuro—

_Dude, ohmigod, HOW did I never know you were fucking gay?!_

I —

_Would you ever consider fucking your self?_

No, I — wait, that’s not even possible!

_Let’s just go back to our dorm, man —_

_My_ dorm.

_A’ight, your dorm. Fucking hell. That dude looked so tight, though. You think he works out? You gonna call him? You want me to call him? Shit, I SO wanna try anal._

Shiro was getting short of breath, and to his horror he realised that Kuro getting horny meant him getting horny. And his uniform did nothing whatsoever to hide his shame.

_Whoops, my bad, bro. Better go back to your dorm and take care of that, huh? You gonna need help with that? Huh?_

Shut up shut up shut up SHUT UP.

“Dude, what the hell was that?”

Shiro blinked back to the present to see Matt staring at him, his glasses halfway down his nose and his jaw practically on the floor.

“What?” said Kuro, grinning widely. “He was hot, right?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurrah for Keith finally arriving! It will be awhile before he gets a big role, but we can hopefully enjoy some Shiro x Kuro in the meantime ... *cough* smut in next chapter *cough* :P 
> 
> Please review! I wanna try keep updating weekly, but your support will greatly help that! And thanks for reading! :D
> 
> Come be my friend on Tumblr:
> 
> <https://loveyoutopiecesdistractionetc.tumblr.com/>


	5. Need a Hand?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this went from zero to ninety and I'm not sure how I feel about that. Let me know how I did in the comment section! Thanks for reading!

Somehow, ever since his first trip in passenger mode, Shiro could _hear_ Kuro. He was there, somewhere in his head, and even managed to burst through and use his mouth from time to time. He was trying to ignore him as best he could, but things were getting dire. 

Needless to say, that was _not_ how Shiro had expected to come out. He had barely even come out to _himself_ yet, let alone his best friend, a hallway full of classmates, and, by word of mouth, probably the entire garrison by now. But despite the mortification and the anxiety and the overwhelming hatred for Kuro for being the source of it all … he found himself breathing a slight sigh of relief. There was a part of him that finally understood, and accepted him the way he was. That part of him was happy. It was _proud_.

That part of him was Kuro. And he couldn’t despise it now matter how much he wanted to. Not entirely, at least.

Eventually he had to take Kuro up on his offer of returning to their dorm — _his_ dorm — and once there he sat down on the edge of his bed with his face in his hands. He had placed the test paper face-down on his desk without looking at the cadet’s name. He was hoping Kuro would forget about him. Shiro sort of wanted to forget about him, too.

But that didn’t help the fact that he was still horny as fuck, so he took out his laptop and googled some gay Asian porn. 

He scrolled through the daddy kinks and barely legals until he found a nice homemade video with lots of kissing and tender smiles. He stationed himself sitting against the headboard of the bed, and stroked himself softly outside of his clothes for the first few minutes. He focussed on the video — not on Kuro, not on the nausea and the tight feeling in his chest that too often came with arousal, and definitely not on that really, _really_ cute guy from before. 

Ten minutes passed, then twenty. He rubbed it methodically, waiting for the stimulation to let rise the crest of an orgasm so he could release the tension and maybe find some sleep tonight. His dick was swollen and solid and getting a little sore, but his head wasn’t in it. He never usually got his far — usually Kuro would have taken over by now.

Right on cue, Kuro’s snigger echoed inside his mind.

 _If you wanted me that bad you shoulda just asked._ _Need some help with that?_

Shiro scrunched his eyes shut and turned his face. “No,” he said. He didn’t known if it made him crazier to speak out loud to the voice in his head, but he felt it gave him an upper hand. It reminded him that he was the one in power. “Get out of my head.”

 _No can do, baby,_ Kuro replied with a sigh. _Ugh, dude, you seriously gotta learn some new tricks already. If you’re gay you should at least know your way around a dick._ He paused. _Lucky for you you’ve got a grade-A fucking sensei right here in that crazy ol’ head of yours._

Ignoring him, Shiro continued pumping just to try to prove him wrong. 

_Whaddup with the porn, though? There’s a tight, tasty ass-pussy just a phonecall away. I swear to fuck, you’ll never go back to your fist._

Shiro grit his teeth.

 _Not that I know a lot about a-holes. Not that into dudes myself, and chicks don’t really buy into it. But, man, he sure was purty. Maybe_ I’ll _give him a call—_

“No,” Shiro spat. “No you won’t. You won’t be calling him. I’m not letting you sleep with random people with my body.”

_Uh, excuse me, it’s my body, too!_

“No. It’s. Not.”

 _Alright, alright,_ Kuro sniggered. _I guess you can take of this on your own, then._

Shiro dropped his hand, rubbing his face in frustration. He could almost feel Kuro grinning, but he was still in control. 

Ten more minutes passed, and Shiro was getting desperate. 

“Hey, uh … you,” he called. “You still there?”

He could basically _feel_ Kuro’s annoyance. _Like, I have a name, you know?_

Shiro didn’t reply, instantly regretting even reaching out to him. 

… _Did you need me for something?_

“Just … will you help me out already? I’ll let you drive.”

_Oh? Oh? You’ll LET me, will you? My, my, what a goddamn HONOUR._

“Oh, for God’s sake, just take over! Just take care of it!”

_Take care of WHAT exactly, Shiro baby?_

Shiro blushed, averting his eyes. “You know,” he muttered. “You’re the one who got me like this.”

_Hmm … Nah, think I’ll pass on this one. This video just ain’t doing it for me._

Shiro rolled his eyes. “So? You can watch something else.”

 _Honestly I’m pretty satisfied just watching_ you _._

Shiro frowned, vaguely disgusted. Desperate, he tried to forcefully sink back into the black. But as he closed his eyes and sank, he found himself somewhere else entirely.

Kuro was laying beside him on the bed, in a “draw me like one of you French girls” kind of way. He looked vaguely the same as Shiro — barring a shock of white hair on his head where Shiro’s was stark black. He was broader and taller than Shiro, too, but paler. On second thought, they looked nothing alike at all. 

“Having fun?” he sneered.

Shiro looked around. “Where are we?”

“Our mind palace, duh,” said Kuro. “Didn’t you watch Sherlock?”

Shiro glanced at him crossly, and scooted away as best he could on the small single bed. At his feet were piles of teddy bears, and spaceship mobiles hung above his head. The more he looked the more the room seemed to fill up, and he felt uneasy about it. “I didn’t know I had a mind palace,” he said, vaguely wishing he hadn’t come here. “What’s this room?”

“It’s our room from when we were a kid. You don’t remember?”

Shiro shook his head. He looked back at Kuro, strangely drawn to him like his reflection in a mirror.

Suddenly, there was a bang. Kuro bolted upright.

“What was that?” asked Shiro.

The room was growing clearer, and Kuro’s face was stricken. “Actually, you know what, I don’t think you should be here.”

“Huh—?” Shiro started, but then Kuro lunged at him. Shiro ripped himself out of the mind palace and back to his own bed in his dorm. And as he did his mind seemed to stretch, and at once he realised that he hadn’t come back entirely himself.

“Holy fucking shit,” Kuro said aloud. 

“How are you—“ Shiro clamped a hand over his mouth, but Kuro punched the air at the same time. “What the hell’s going on?”

Kuro started laughing, softly at first, and then maniacally. “Oh my God, oh my God, we’re doing it. We’re co-hosting!”

“Co-hosting? What the hell is that?”

“Fuck, man, haven’t you done any research? It’s like you don’t even _want_ to understand us _._ ” 

“Yeah, I _don’t_.”

Kuro tutted. “Ouch. That hurt, Shiro. That really, really hurt.” Then he barked a laugh. “Co-hosting—” he began, as he reached down and grabbed his balls. Shiro yelped, wrenching the same hand back. “—means _we’re both fucking driving._ ” 

“No way,” gasped Shiro. But he knew Kuro was right. He could feel Kuro there, his movement in his body, his mind merged with his own, his tongue in his mouth …

“Yes way.” Kuro was breathless. “Oh, shit — we’re so fucking _close_.” 

Shiro’s mind was spinning, and — good God — he was still hard _._ And Kuro was growing restless, laying back and rolling his hips, one hand reaching up his shirt to feel the warm skin there. And Shiro was frozen in panic, but he could also feel what Kuro was feeling, which was total whacked out bliss. 

Kuro sensed his unease and reached a hand up, running his fingers gently through Shiro’s hair. “Calm down, bro, it’s OK … Don’t think too hard about it.”

Shiro, overwhelmed, let himself be placated. He didn’t know what else to do.

“We’re so close,” Kuro murmured again. He reached down and gently glided his palm over his cock, pushing it flat and then watching it bounce back up. Shiro twitched, suppressing a moan into the back of his other hand, and Kuro smirked. “C’mon, man, let me do it. I’ll show you … I’ll make us feel reeeeaal good.”

Shiro extended his neck, panting. He was so pent up that it hurt, and his body was responding to the way Kuro was touching him — the way he was touching himself. His mind was growing thick and sluggish and … _fuck_.

Eyes shut tight, he nodded. 

Kuro licked his lips, grinning wide, and gave his balls another little tug. Shiro buckled and whimpered and let his other hand fall away from his face. One-handed, Kuro shoved the shirt over his head and pressed his palm into his sternum, sinking finger and thumb into the flesh above his collarbone. He pushed his hand until it reached his throat and tightened around it — just briefly — but enough to steal Shiro’s breath away. He pushed his head back into the pillow, arching his back, as the hand moved to his face and slipped his thumb into Shiro’s mouth. Knowing what he was meant to do, Shiro swirled his tongue around it and sucked, head spinning as the sensation resounded in his crotch. He heard Kuro chuckling but it mingled with his own soft moans.

Kuro’s hand trailed back down his body, and gripped his dick at the base. Shiro found his hips wanted to naturally buck into that loose grip, but he clenched his free hand up in the sheets to control himself. His fist rose up the length, stopping just at his foreskin and rolling it all the way back as Shiro squirmed and sucked in a sharp breath. With his thumb, Kuro pressed into his slit, slowly massaging the precum and spit and spreading it over the rest of the head in tantalising circles. His thumb rubbed up and down over his frenulum, and Shiro was unravelling fast, groaning loudly and leaking more and more by the minute. Just as he felt his orgasm building, Kuro stopped and reached for his bedside cabinet. He let him see the bottle of lube, grinning cheekily with Shiro’s mouth. He popped the cap and squeezed a decent amount onto the tips of his fingers. 

Shiro came up onto his elbows to watch, suddenly enthralled by the sight of his own dick standing stiff and flushed a deep red. He winced and sucked the air in sharply as Kuro rubbed the lube directly onto his tip, and when that was done he formed a loose fist around the head and began to pump softly and steadily with a loud, lewd squelching noise. 

Shiro’s head pressed back into the pillow again, his moans becoming cries as Kuro fist tightened and tightened and his face and hands started to feel numb with that blinding tight and sticky pleasure. He suddenly thought of that girl and what it felt like inside her — that boy and what it might feel like inside him …

His hips bucked rhythmically, hypnotically into Kuro’s fist, faster and faster and he felt the crest of orgasm again. Right on the edge, Kuro’s hand disappeared once more. Shiro whined, loudly, unthinkingly. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and he splayed out, sweating and submissive, willing Kuro to finish it. 

“Tut-tut,” said Kuro. “You’ll have to beg.”

“Please,” gasped Shiro, no shame left in his body. 

Shiro felt Kuro’s tongue run along the inside of his lip and bite it. “Please, what?” he pushed.

“Ugh … please just let me _finish_.”

“Please let me finish, _who_?” Kuro teased further.

“Kuro,” whispered Shiro. He didn’t care that he was being toyed with. He had never felt this good in his life. “Please let me come, Kuro.”

Kuro gave a low hum of approval, and his hand returned to squeezing the head of his dick. Shiro bucked, squirming into his sheets and yelping as the sensation increased tenfold and his forbidden orgasm rose swiftly and blindingly to a tight, white peak. He groaned loudly as he shot hot cum onto his belly and chest, shoulders lifting right off the sheets. He fell down again, sucking air in rapidly as the orgasm swelled back down. 

Shiro panted, eyes blinking open and staring at the ceiling. His extremities were all tingling, and lights flickered at the edges of his vision. The blood left his dick and it slowly softened and fell twitching and sensitive against his stomach. 

Shiro stared at his hands, shaking slightly, then dropped them.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

He rubbed his fingers into the cum on his belly, then brought them to his mouth to suck clean. 

Kuro was still with him. Exhausted, he wrapped his arms around his torso, holding himself in a loose embrace. Then they fell asleep like that, together.


	6. Double Negatives

Apparently, co-hosting is exhausting. Mentally, physically, every way, basically. Who would have known?

Kuro did. Kuro had done his research. And because Kuro knew, and Shiro had shared thoughts with him so intimately, Shiro seemed to have a vague awareness of it, too.

He spent the next three days in bed. Kuro was wiped out, having been the most active during the whole ordeal, and sunk so deep into the black that Shiro couldn’t even feel him anymore. While Shiro was happy for his absence, without him there was a void that was immediately filled with regret. Because while Kuro was in his head, Kuro’s thoughts were his own. Shiro wanted what Kuro wanted. Well, a part of him did. Now he just felt ashamed for the lapse, and terrified that it would happen again.

But even after three days Kuro never resurfaced. Shiro thought maybe it was like a haunting — you have to find out what the ghost wants and give it to them. In Kuro’s case it just happened to be … well, _that_.

Shiro didn’t like to think about it. So he didn’t. He just went back to the glorious solitude of his own mind.

Not that there wasn’t the occasional blackout. One day, weeks later, he snapped back to consciousness standing in the middle of some toilet he didn’t recognise. The same old urinal cakes told him it was the garrison, though, so he walked outside and tried to find his way back to — classes? His dorm? He had to check the time to figure out where he was supposed to be. 

On his way out of the door, another guy came slinking in. He looked at Shiro, eyes widening, and stuttered to a halt. 

Shiro, already mostly out of the door, glanced back at him briefly in confusion but kept on walking. 

_That was weird_ , he thought. 

The hallway outside he recognised as one of the more unfortunate of Freshman locker areas, and as he walked down the hall, his gaze was caught by a black-haired beauty, and — oh shit.

Shiro averted his eyes quickly and kept walking. 

“Shirogane,” he heard Keith call, and quick footsteps echoed behind him. The guy yanked his arm, turning him around.

“Oh, hey Keith! Didn’t see you there,” he laughed, rubbing the back of his head nervously. Jeez, why did he have to say his name like that? He sounded _weird_.

Keith knit his brow. “You looked directly at me,” he said, exasperation thick in his voice.

“Oh, I did, didn’t I?” Shiro smiled, then frowned, and looked awkwardly at the guy in front of him. Keith stared back, blinking at him stupidly. 

Silence.

Shiro coughed. “So, uh, did you get your test back from Professor Hutzler?”

Keith looked behind Shiro, and his eyes widened. He ducked his head. “Oh. Right. Yeah. Thanks for that.”

Shiro looked around. All there was was the toilet. “Did you need me for something?” he prompted gently.

Keith looked at him, eyes wide. “Huh …?”

“You called out to me, right?”

“Oh. Right! I did. Well, actually …” He blinked, shook himself, and let out a small strangled laugh. “Sorry, I, um, didn’t mean to catch you at a time like this.”

“A time like what?”

Keith nodded in the direction of the toilet, eyes fierce and flushing pink. “I mean, uh, do you come here often?”

“… What are you talking about?”

“C’mon, dude, I know. This is the garrison glory hole. Not exactly a secret.”

Shiro froze. “No. Uh, no, no, no, you got it all wrong. I wasn’t … I didn’t … I …” Shiro opened and closed his mouth, shaking his head wildly, but nothing more came out.

A frown had been working its way onto Keith’s face for some time with the thread of realisation. “So, wait, now I’m confused. Were you fucking with me or not?”

“What? Why did you think …?”

“Because of your weird texts and stuff,” said Keith, scratching his head and averting his gaze. When Shiro continued to look blank, Keith glanced at him and narrowed his eyes. “You know, how you sent a dick pic and wrote, _this get you wet baby?_ And I said no, I don’t really have the right organs for that. And then your reply was — I dunno what, but it made me pretty goddamn sure you weren’t fucking gay and never were. And now I come over here to tell you to delete my number if you’re just gonna fuck with me, and here you are — strolling out of the garrison glory hole.” He shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets and looking up at Shiro with his big ol’ eyes. He breathed out, and Shiro found himself speechless that this previously curt and to-the-point kid could come out with such a rant. His voice was a delightful drawl, a twang of the south in it, and God Shiro could listen to that forever. “So which is it?”

Shiro blinked. “Which is what?”

“Are you straight or just not interested?”

Shiro almost choked. “… Neither?”

Keith narrowed his eyes a little. Shiro did, too — did that come out right? 

“Whatever,” Keith continued uncertainly. “Like I said — if you’re not gay you can just delete my number.”

Shiro’s heart was sinking, and his mouth flapped about to keep it afloat. “Um … what if I’m bisexual? Can I keep it then?”

Keith’s eyebrows raised up into his hair.

Shiro laughed a little, and whistled. “Wow. First time I said that out loud.” He bit his lip, looking worriedly at Keith. “Look, about the texting. You see …” He paused, scratching his head sheepishly. “Would you believe me if I said it wasn’t me?”

“What are you talking about? Of course it was _you_.” He looked down, head cocking slightly as he sized up Shiro’s crotch. “Yup. Pretty sure.”

Shiro stammered his way through the mortification, and the invasive knowledge that God knows how many people had seen his dick without his knowledge, and said, “W-well, you see, my friend took my phone and, um …”

Keith twerked an eyebrow. “That wasn’t your dick?”

Shiro sort of nodded and sort of shook his head at the same time, and Keith smirked a little, a vague smile on his face which turned into a relieved, head-thrown-back laugh. It was a beautiful laugh, and Shiro decided not to think too much about why he was laughing and rather rejoiced at the fact that by some sort of miracle he had actually managed to clear the air. 

“Really, truly, so very sorry about that,” he said anyway, just to be safe.

Keith scrubbed his face with his hands — absentmindedly, it seemed — and there was something so comfortable and honest about his interactions that Shiro just really liked a whole lot. “So … neither straight _nor_ uninterested …” Keith mused, turning his head and throwing Shiro a sideways smile. 

“Nope,” said Shiro. “I mean, yes. I mean — you know what I mean.” He rocked on his heels, hands behind his back, while Keith pressed his lips together awkwardly and glanced around the hallway. Shiro — internally searching for Kuro and finding nothing — breathed in a breath of reckless abandon. “So … uh … can I give you a call sometime?”

Keith gave him one of those long up-and-down looks, making Shiro feel positively naked, and nodded slightly. “Just — just don’t let you friends near your phone, OK?” His chest rose on a deep inhale, eyes turning up to meet Shiro’s with resentment, vulnerability, and yearning all at once.

“OK,” said Shiro, swallowing nervously. 

Keith nodded. “OK.” He promptly turned and walked away at a quick pace. Shiro watched him go, wondering how the hell he was going to keep Kuro away from this one. 


	7. Old School

Shiro got back to his dorm, checked Kuro still wasn’t around, and dialled Keith’s number.

The phone rang out for eight tones. Shiro had been holding his breath but had to let it out after three. Then the dial sound cut out and he heard a shuffling. There was a pause long enough that it could have been a bad voicemail message.

Keith was hesitant when he finally spoke. “ … Shiro or Shiro’s friend?” he asked suspiciously.

“Just me,” said Shiro, and laughed a little awkwardly. He rubbed his cheek, unable to suppress a goofy grin at the fact that Keith had his number saved, despite everything. _And that he had called him Shiro._

Keith’s voice had a strange note of panic to it. “That was quick.” 

“Sorry, too eager?”

Keith didn’t say anything. After a moment, he made a ‘meh’ sort of noise. 

“I —“

“You —“

“Sorry,” they said in unison. 

“Go for it,” said Keith.

“No, no, you first,” insisted Shiro.

Keith paused, and grunted a little. “I didn’t expect you to call.” 

“… You said I could, right?”

“No. I mean, yes! I mean — sorry. I was more expecting a text, that’s all. You know. Talking on the phone’s a bit … old school, I guess.”

“I’m pretty old school,” admitted Shiro. “Is that OK?”

“Yeah, no. Uh, it’s fine, really. I’m not that into texting anyway.”

Shiro nodded. Keith was pretty dry and brief in his responses, so Shiro could imagine why he avoided texting. But it was good to hear his voice. Delightful, actually.

“What were you gonna say?” asked Keith.

Shiro adjusted himself, resting his back against the headboard and propping his arm behind his head like a pillow. “Oh,” he laughed, “I was just gonna say that, uh, the way we parted there reminded me of that rom-com, where the guy and the girl say _okay_ to each other all the time? He says, _okay_ , and she responds with _okay_. You know that movie?”

Keith paused. “No?”

“Yeah you do. I think she had cancer.” He paused. “Or did they both have cancer …?”

“Sounds like a god-awful movie.”

“Nah, it was sweet. Made me cry like a baby.” Shiro fiddled with the corner of his blanket. “You like movies?”

“Not really.”

“Oh, uh, OK … You like food?”

“Yeah. I guess. Gotta eat it, don’t I?”

“Oh, yeah? What kind of food do you like?”

Keith gave a short sigh, then began prattling off a list. “Cup ramen, potato waffles, white bread, pizzinis—“

“Pizzinis?”

“Yeah, they’re like mini pizzas, I guess.”

“Oh, that’s cool.” Shiro waited, but Keith didn’t say anything else. Shiro wondered briefly how the kid managed to stay so fit with that kind of diet, but then he was just thinking about Keith’s body and — he swallowed, blinking fast. “Uh, so, you like starch, huh?” Still, Keith said nothing. Shiro suspected he had nodded. Maybe shrugged. “Say, um, what do you do in your free time?”

Keith sighed again, just a little, as if answering all these questions was exhausting. “Uh, I kinda like kickboxing …”

“Kickboxing?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“Uh, yeah! So, um, do you like martial arts movies then?”

“Why are you asking me all these questions, Shiro?”

Shiro exhaled a little, admitting defeat. He knew he deserved the bluntness, but it was slightly intimidating all the same. Still, he knew that with Keith it would be best to put his cards on the table. He closed his eyes. “I’m just trying to figure out what we should do on our date,” he said as off-handedly as he could manage.

There was a long pause. “We’re going on a date?” Keith asked, deadpan.

Shiro’s heart dropped into his gut. “Well … y-yeah. I thought so?”

Keith was shifting on the other end. “ _Why?_ ”

“ _Why?_ ” Shiro stopped. “I thought … you gave me your number, and said I could call—”

“Yeah, you’re right but … can’t we just hang out in your dorm?”

Shiro stopped. He looked around his dorm, dark and empty. _Your_ dorm, he said. Not Keith’s dorm. Because seniors didn’t have to share. He remembered fucking that girl on the floor beside the bed. He swallowed. “We could do that.”

“Okay,” said Keith.

“Okay.”

“Don’t—“ Keith huffed little, but it was good-natured enough that Shiro smiled. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” asked Shiro, grinning wider.

“Be cute.”

“Impossible,” Shiro said, shaking his head importantly. 

Keith groaned a little. “Don’t go all rom-com on me.” He paused, then lowered his voice to a mumble. “You don’t have to rom-com me.”

Shiro wrinkled his brow a little at that, his smile growing fixed and unsure. He waited, but Keith never said anything more. Shiro let the phone rest on his shoulder and leaned his head into it. He looked at the ceiling, frowning slightly. “You’re cute, too, you know.”

Keith sighed again, and then made a noise like retching. Shiro laughed. 

They stayed on the phone for a few minutes longer, deep in silence.They listened to each other’s slightest sounds. When Keith spoke again, his voice was quick and breathless. “So you want me to come over?”

Shiro’s heart started thumping fast in his chest. “Now?” he said shakily. “Well, no. Not now. How about … the day after tomorrow? After class?”

“That works,” said Keith drily. He paused a moment. “I’m gonna hang up now.”

“Oh, OK,” said Shiro, and then Keith hung up. Shiro stared at the phone, slightly confused. He thought that if Keith was playing hard to get, he was kind of going about it the wrong way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, thanks for reading up ’til now. Unfortunately I will be on hiatus for about a month as I have an exam coming up and a project due at the same time. Sorry! Thanks so much to all the reviewers and followers so far. I love you :D I got way more into this story than I expected. That means it’s a lot less porny than I originally planned lol so apologies for that. (There will still be porn, though, just not for like ten more chapters. Oops.) I am happy to write a better and more meaningful story though so I hope you’re happy to read it :D
> 
> Thanks again and please let me know what you think!
> 
> Also, apparently today is Sheith day, so happy Sheith day!
> 
> ALSO happy Pride month!!!


	8. Netflix and Chill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol I could't help but write this week's chapter anyway. I was too excited because omg spoiler ... they gonna kiss. 
> 
> I'll study tomorrow I swear

_The day after tomorrow after class._ Jeez, why did he have to be so vague? That could mean literally _any_ time between five PM and God knows when. Should he call Keith again to specify? Should he text him directions to his dorm? Should he just call the whole damn thing off??? 

There was a knock on the door at six fifteen. Shiro, who had been pacing for the past hour and a half, answered it within a second flat.

Keith was looking down the hall, rubbing his neck, and glanced at Shiro when the door opened. 

Shiro stared at him, mouth agape. Standing there, in his casual clothes, Shiro realised for the first time that Keith was quite possibly out of his league. Not in looks, really; even for all his modesty Shiro couldn’t ignore the attention he always got from girls. But Keith had a different air about him: dark clothes, hair grown out, and a face that was just begging for a fight. The guy was sporting fingerless gloves for crying out loud. He was just … _cool_. Shiro felt like bright-eyed, blushing Sandy trying to keep up with Danny from Grease Lightning — and, boy, it was intimidating as hell. 

A couple of Shiro’s classmates passed them by and threw looks their way. Shiro smiled and waved but Keith bristled. 

“Are you gonna let me in?” he said, looking about ready to barge in on his own. Shiro wondered if he could. Although he was shorter and slighter than Shiro, he looked hella hard in that tight t-shirt and jeans.

His black hair, on the other hand, looked soft. Freshly washed, in fact. 

Shiro swallowed. He let him in without argument, and closed the door. Keith stood next to him, staring around the room. His eyes stopped on Shiro, meeting his gaze with his eyebrows raised. 

“Hey, so, have you been watching American Gods?” Shiro chattered quickly. “I’m so behind — still on episode three. Have you seen it yet?”

“No, I —”

“Oh, dude, we have to watch it. We should totally watch it. Yeah, let’s watch it right now!” He grabbed his laptop from his desk, and settled down on the bed. Keith hesitated a moment, then scooted up beside him. 

Shiro had already cleared the history, knowing too well the kind of things that could pop up from the times Kuro was in control of it. He logged into Amazon Prime, found the video, and pressed play. Then he sat stiff, his heart thumping, his right arm way too aware of its proximity to Keith’s left. 

Keith shuffled around a bit, trying to get comfortable. Shiro offered him a pillow but he just shook his head. During the intro, he glanced at Shiro. He jigged his foot. Five minutes in he started combing his hand through his bangs, and peeked up at Shiro again while his hand covered his face. Fifteen minutes in he had started biting his fingernails. They sat in silence for ten more minutes and he stared at Shiro almost the entire time. 

Awkward as hell, Shiro turned and offered him a little smile. Keith’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t smile back or avert his eyes. A coward at heart, Shiro looked away first. 

A little while later a notification came up saying that the battery on Shiro’s laptop was low. The two of them reached up to cancel it at the same time, and their hands knocked together. 

“Ah, sorry,” said Shiro, laughing uncomfortable as he felt his body burn up. He put the laptop in Keith’s lap as he reached down to pick the cable off the floor and plug it in. As he was sitting back up, he noticed a mark on his hand and raised it to inspect it. 

It was blood.

“Shit,” said Keith. “Sorry … That’s mine.”

Shiro turned his head. “What?”

Keith showed Shiro the side of his finger, which was indeed bleeding scarlet blood. He brought it to his mouth— then immediately dropped it again, cringing, and tried wiping it on his other hand. “I bled on you. That’s … wow. That’s so embarrassing. That’s, like, the most embarrassing thing that could have happened.”

Shiro blinked. “Why are you bleeding? Are you OK?”

“Yeah, I just ripped some of the skin off. Sorry — it’s super gross.”

“No, it’s … Are you OK? Doesn’t it hurt?”

“I guess. It’s a habit. Sorry again. I just can’t believe I fucking _bled_ on you.”

“Stop apologising,” laughed Shiro. Keith, who had been wringing his hands in his lap, didn’t look up. Shiro stared at him, his jaw clenching. “Oh my God, stop picking at it!” he yelled.

Keith gasped and clenched his fists, pushing them onto his knees. “Shit, I didn’t even notice!”

Shiro took a few breaths, then reached out and grabbed one of Keith’s hand in his. Keith spun to look at him, eyes growing round. The smaller hand twitched in Shiro’s at first, then tightened as the fingers laced together naturally. Shiro planted their hands down on the blanket in the space between their bodies. “Well, now you can’t pick at it,” he said, sounding a lot smoother than he felt.

Keith stared at him, then at their hands. Shiro gave his a little squeeze. The two of them stared unseeing at the laptop screen, breathing deep breaths. Shiro’s hand was sweating. Keith fingers tapped and tightened around his from time to time. A few minutes later, he scooched closer. His free hand reached over and touched Shiro’s arm. Shiro didn’t notice the gay sex scene coming until it came.

“Oh my God,” he said, jerking up suddenly as a towel fell and a large male penis was unsheathed. “Sorry, I-I didn’t know this was … Holy _shit_.” He fumbled with the trackpad to try and skip the scene, but was stopped in his tracks by the sound of Keith laughing. 

He turned to see him, beautiful and bewildered, grinning a sideways grin with his eyes crinkled up. “Dude, it’s not a big deal.”

Their gaze met, and Shiro’s mouth hung open in surprise. He felt his chest rise and fall, suddenly aware of nothing except Keith’s eyes, which were purple. _His eyes were fucking purple!_ Shiro gazed at him, stunned to silence. Keith still had that smile on, but it dropped self-consciously when their stare lingered seconds, minutes too long. He closed his mouth, frowning, and Shiro saw his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed. Then Keith reached out and closed the laptop. 

Shiro could not breath. Keith moved the laptop to the bedside table, and then sat back down beside Shiro, tucking his knee up and turning to face him again. 

“Uh …” Shiro’s heartbeat was thrumming in his ears and in his chest. Keith’s magic purple eyes were wide. He was definitely, probably, supposed to kiss him right now.

A long moment passed. 

“Are you just gonna sit there?” asked Keith, his voice all husky and creaking.

“No.” Shiro realised he was gaping. He shook himself. “Uh, well, would it be OK if I … if I were to, uh … maybe … kiss you?”

Keith stared at him, not blinking. “You really have to ask?” he said dubiously.

Shiro shrugged sheepishly. “It’s only polite.”

“Why do you think I’m sitting here staring at you?” whispered Keith, a little deliberate, as if he was talking to a half-wit.

“Because I’m _handsome_?” offered Shiro. Keith made a face like he was about to laugh but didn’t want to dignify the joke with a positive response. Shiro smiled. He liked seeing new expressions on Keith’s face. He liked Keith’s face. He liked _Keith_. “I could keep staring at you a bit longer, to be honest,” he admitted. “You’re really beautiful, you know.”

Keith paused, then rolled his eyes slightly. “ _Or_ you could just fucking kiss me already.”

“You know, _you_ could always kiss _me_ — like, if you really wanna kiss so bad.”

“I don’t—!”

“Hmm?”

“I—” Keith grit his teeth, turning a little pink. “ _Fuck_. You’re _annoying_.”

Shiro smiled. “Are you gonna do it?” he asked breathlessly.

Keith said nothing, pouting slightly and avoiding Shiro’s gaze.

Shiro leaned forward a little, trying to recover the eye contact. “Are you nervous?” he ventured gently.

“ _No_ ,” said Keith, picking at his fingernails with one hand. 

“Well, _I’m_ nervous.” Shiro inhaled a little shakily, and felt braver for having said it out loud.

Keith lowered his gaze to Shiro’s chest, long eyelashes flickering slightly. He looked up at Shiro’s face again. His lips were parted slightly and a pink tongue peeked out to wet them.

Shiro swallowed. Hand shaking, he reached over and brushed the back of his fingers over Keith’s pale cheek. Keith recoiled slightly, throwing Shiro a furtive look. 

Shiro’s hand stopped. “You’re sure you—?”

Keith let out a tangle of exasperated noises, many of which may have been _fuck_ , then slapped Shiro’s hand down, grabbed him by the collar, and lunged forward to catch him breathless by the mouth. 

Shiro’s eyes clamped shut. Keith’s lips stuck fast against his own. The only sound was each of them inhaling sharply, rising and drawing up into the kiss. They parted with a small _smack_ , pausing for a heartbeat, breathing. Then something snapped and they crashed together again, hasty and heated and honest. Mouths opened — tongues lapped and entangled and untangled again — Keith gave the slightest moan that Shiro felt rather than heard. Both his hands rose and grabbed Keith’s face urgently, and Keith’s hand wound down his forearm and up his bicep, fingers sinking into muscle. Keith groaned again — appreciative — but cut himself off with his own mouth by kissing harder, faster, and falling flush against Shiro’s side. One of Shiro’s hands was on Keith’s face, the other clutched his shoulder, and he trembled, not knowing where else was safe to go as Keith’s arms wrapped around his neck and his fingers slid up into his hair. Shiro panted, feeling sparks in Keith’s touch and a heat growing in his belly that flared with each passing second and each inch that closed between them.

Keith kissed like the world was ending, all fervour and fire and fists tied up in his t-shirt. Shiro was highly aware that Keith was a boy — those lips were a boy’s lips and those shoulders and that chest. The hands that roamed over his body endlessly were large and rough, the body that pressed against his was lean and tight and there were no breasts to cushion the space between them. Shiro wrapped his arms around Keith’s back and pulled him close, closer than should have been possible, and Keith’s knee spilled over between his legs and he raised himself up and kissed Shiro with his face in both his hands. 

Shiro did not wonder whether or not he liked kissing boys better than kissing girls, because he could not say for certain that another boy could kiss the way Keith did. He could not remember kissing anyone like this before. He could not imagine kissing anyone like this again. 

At this moment, Keith seemed to stand apart from all the others. Keith was here: Keith’s kiss and Keith’s touch and Keith’s heat and Keith’s everything, all at his fingertips, all filling up his head, all firing him up and … _fuck_. 

It was _hot_. 

“Keith—” he started, and Keith bristled up. With a grunt he clambered into Shiro’s lap and Shiro’s eyes flew open, panting and blinking up at him with sudden fear. Keith bit his lip slightly, and kissed him again, lowering his hips down as Shiro tensed up and gasped. Keith took his hand and placed it on the inside of his thigh, guiding it up — up — _up_ until Shiro felt where the denim tightened around Keith’s bulge before he snatched his hand back. 

Shiro ducked his head, fighting for breath as reality snapped back around him. When Keith tried to touch him Shiro almost knocked him to the floor as he jumped to his feet.

His head spun when he stood up, and for a second he thought he was going to get sick. “S-sorry, uh, I just remembered … I have an assignment due tomorrow and, uh …”

Keith was kneeling on the bed, panting. Shiro couldn’t look at him. “You what?”

Shiro rubbed his face, and then wiped the sweat on his jeans. He scratched his neck, and shrugged stiffly. “Yeah. Sorry … Can you go?”

Keith sat for a moment. He patted the back of his head where his hair was sticking up, and took a moment to smooth it down. Shiro felt like he had done something terrible, messing Keith’s hair up like that, and he had no idea why. Disorientated, Keith got to his feet. He swore, and winced a little when he moved. Shiro knew he must have been painfully erect. Shiro was too.

“Can I use your toilet first?” Keith asked gruffly, flushing red. 

Shiro nodded. He went to the window and was still standing there when Keith came back out.

Keith eyed him warily, equal parts annoyed and confused. “You know, it’s not really a booty call if you phone three days early and I don’t even get any.”

Shiro blinked. “It wasn’t a booty call.”

Keith stared at him, eyebrows dangerously low. He laughed. “So you just called me over here to watch TV?” he asked sarcastically.

“Yeah … I did.” Keith’s harsh grin faltered a little. Shiro swallowed, wrinkling his brow as he looked at him. “I want to get to know you,” he said honestly. 

Keith paused, chin dropping to his chest as he stared at the floor for a moment. He clenched his fists, raising his head to meet Shiro’s eyes. “Funny,” he said, going to the door and swinging it open, “since you got to know me _so_ well just now.” 


End file.
